Clara
by FutureAuthor45
Summary: What if a 15 year old girl showed up on the steps of 221B with a bullet in her arm? And what if that girl possessed the ability of deduction, just as Sherlock Holmes does? Please R&R! : )
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Thank you so much for taking time to read this! The story is set before Reichenbach Fall, so probably in season 2. Sorry if I make Sherlock sound a bit dumb, I'm not that good at writing for him, especially when he says something smart. Also, I don't own Sherlock, just my OC Clara, and I apologize for any mispellings, or commas being out of place. This is my first fanfic on here, so I hope you like it! Please R&R! : )

It was a normal evening at Baker Street. With John working on his blog, and Sherlock off in his mind palace. John could have swore he heard someone knocking on the door, but he just assumed it was someone visiting over in the flat next to them.

"Do you hear something?" he finally asked Sherlock, when the knocking seemed to become a loud banging sound.

"What?" Sherlock asked, not even breaking his concentration.

"It's like someone's knocking."

"I'm sure if there was knocking, I would have heard it by now." Sherlock said with annoyance filling his tone.

"I suppose." John shrugged, deciding to go back to his work.

The sound of a gunshot suddenly filled the room, coming from somewhere outside their door. John immediantly sprung up, and ran down the stairs, while Sherlock merely snapped out of his mind palace. He swung the door open to reveal a girl with dark brown braided hair, laying on the step unconsious. John quickly glanced over to her arm, to notice a bullet lodged in it. He quickly muttered an obscenity, before picking her up, and carrying her upstairs.

"Well, looks like we have a new client." John said before laying the girl on one of their couches.

A small smirk tugged on John's lips at the sight of the great Sherlock Holmes looking slightly surprised.

"The bullets not in their too deep, I'm sure I can get it out if I tried." John said before going to find the medical kit he keeps in case one of his roomate's expirements go wrong.

Sherlock studied the girl, before realizing he had met her before.

A month earlier, Mrs. Hudson had been robbed of a ring she owned, leading Sherlock into a chase with a teenage girl. He had finally trapped her in an ally way, eventually pushing her into the brick wall. He had her arm twisted behind her back, making sure to put pressure on it.

"Now, are you going to give me that ring back? Or must I break your arm to get it?" Sherlock said sternly.

"I'd love to see you try." the girl said with a smirk plastered on her face.

Sherlock pushed harder on her arm, only getting a grunt back from the thief. They both turned their heads, at the sound of trashcans falling over in the distance. The girl took the oppurtunity of a distracted Sherlock, to free herself from his grasp, and run off. Sherlock started to take after her, before being cornered himself by two gruffer looking men. One of them pushed him to the ground, and held him at gunpoint. Sherlock put his hands behind his head, while trying to come up with an escape plan. He heared a gun cock, assuming it's one of the men, but notices it's the girl who had stolen Mrs. Hudson's ring. She closes her eyes before shooting the two men down, saving Sherlock. Once she saw they were dead, she ran over to a clearly surprised Sherlock Homes.

"You shot them." he said still clearly shocked.

"Yeah well, you can thank me later." she said before reaching into her pocket, and handing him the ring. "Here."

Sherlock took the ring before looking at her, trying to figure this mysterious girl out. "Why?" was all he could say.

"You're Sherlock Holmes. Figure it out." she shrugged before running off, back into the streets of London.

Sherlock snapped out of his thoughts, as John comes back in with a couple of medical supplies.

"So, any idea who she is?" he asked while starting to work on her arm.

"You could say we've met before." Sherlock shrugged before sitting down in his chair.

"Wait. You know who she is?" John asked looking up from his work.

"Not exactly, though I do know she lives with her grandmother." "And you know that how?"

"Easy. When you brought the girl in here I smelled perfume."

"Sherlock, all girls where perfume." John said.

"Yes, I know that, John. But, the perfume I smelled is one that is commonly worn by older women." Sherlock said huffing in frustration.

"Maybe she just likes the smell of that perfume." John said, not fully understanding Sherlock's deduction.

"Don't be so daft, John." Sherlock said rolling his eyes at how stupid John could be.

"Well excuse me for being 'daft'." he said wrapping a bandage around the girls arm.

John packed up the rest of the supplies, before realizing he was curious about how Sherlock knew she lived with her grandmother.

"Okay, what about the perfume?" he said in defeat.

Sherlock smirked at how he had one this argument.

"When you layed her on the couch, and then preceeded to walk by me, I smelled the perfume on your clothes. Which could only have come from her clothes, and if she only visited her grandmother occasionally the perfume wouldn't have had time to set into the fabric. But, if she were to live with her grandmother the scent would eventually where off into the girl's clothes. Thus, giving off that scent of her grandmother's perfume."

"You got all that from perfume?" John said in both amazement, and confusion.

"Of course I did." Sherlock stated, almost offended that John would think he got it wrong. "I've not even gotten to the wrinkles in her dress."

"The what?" John asked.

Before Sherlock could explain, the girl began to stir. She slowly sat up, groaning at the pain in her arm. She looked around at her surrondings, before seeing Sherlock and John standing there.

"You..." She said looking at Sherlock with wide eyes. John started to say something, but was quickly interrupted by Sherlock.

"Fancy meeting you again."

"Can't say the same about you."

"Who are you?" he questioned.

"And why should I tell you? You're the one's who shot me!" she said getting angry.

"Actually, we found you unconscious on our front steps with a bullet in you arm." John said, finally getting a word in.

The girl glanced at the bandage. "Oh, thank you."

"Now, who are you?" Sherlock said sternly. He hated not knowing things, and this girl definitely had lots of secrets.

She huffed, "Fine. The name's Clara Helmes."

"Holmes?" John said glancing at Sherlock and the girl.

"Helmes, not Holmes." Clara said correcting him. She noticed he didn't seem very satisfied by the answer. "Is that a problem?"

"No." John said quickly. "It's just, I honestly wouldn't be surprised. You two look awfully alike."

Sherlock noticed Clara did share the same hair and eye color as himself.

"Why is somebody trying to kill you?" Sherlock asked, interrupting them.

"What, those blokes? Yeah, they've been after me for a while." Clara said shrugging.

"Why?" John asked, sitting down himself.

"Now hold on, you've not even told me who you all are." Clara said, even though she clearly new who Sherlock was.

Sherlock walked over to her and shook her hand. "Sherlock Holmes."

John also shook her hand. "Dr. John Watson."

"Thank you for fixing up my arm, Dr. Watson." she said putting on a half smile.

"You can just call me John."

"Alright, John." she said before looking at Sherlock. "And what do you prefer me to call you as?"

"'Mr. Holmes' will be fine." he stated. "Now, who were those men?"

"Again, just some blokes that have a few "issues" with me." Clara said, trying to avoid the question.

"What men?" John asked, glancing at the two of them.

"Like I said, John. We've met before."

"Under some, not great circumstances, but I was smart enough to get us out." Clara said smugly.

" Smart? If we're talking about intelligence, I hold a much higher place with intellectual knowledge than you do." Sherlock said feeling challenged.

"Oh really? Prove it." she said smirking.

John put his head in his hands and groaned. "Here we go."

"The scent of your perfume means you obviously live with your grandmother." Sherlock started out.

"Oh really? How do you know I just don't like the scent of the perfume."

John lifted his head up to look at Clara. "That's what I said."

"Because, you're not even wearing the perfume." Sherlock stated.

"Quite right, Mr. Holmes. I would never wear anything that smelled so bloody awful, my grandmother would though. She sprays it on every single item we own, she's convinced it keeps stuff fresher." Clara said, getting almost amused by Sherlock trying to deduce her.

"I also assume she does your laundry?"

"Assume?" John said in confusion, as Sherlock has never assumed anything in his life.

"Yes she does, every morning. Irons it and everything." Clara said, merely ignoring John's question.

"How long has your grandmother been missing?"

"Why would you think my grandmother's missing?" Clara tried her best to throw him off track.

"You said your grandmother ironed your clothes everyday. If she really did, then there would be no wrinkles on your dress, but there certainly is. The wrinkles are very deep, almost weeks since they've been ironed out. Also, the scent of perfume on your clothes is weak, yet not weak enough not to smell it, but still not enough if she would have done your laundry recently. And when I shook your hand, I noticed that the nail if your third finger was chewed, as though you were nervous. But why else would you be nervous, unless you knew something was wrong, like your grandmother was missing. Also by the way you walk and hold yourself, you're 15. Am I wrong?"

Sherlock said, finishing up his deduction. Now it was Clara's turn to surprise them both.

"John, you said you were a doctor, correct?"

John nodded in confusion, "Um, yes."

"Haircut, way you hold yourself, says military. You're a bit tanned, yet there's no tan above the wrists so, you've been abroad, but not sunbathing. So, obviously army doctor in...Afghanistan? And if it were Afghanistan you would have been recruited in Kandahar, Helmand City in the Royal Army Medical Corps. Also, when you walked over to sit down, you slightly limped on your left leg as though you've been injured, maybe shot? But if it were that bad, it seems as though you would put more wait on your right leg, but you don't. So, it's almost as though you foget about it, which means the limp might be psychosomatic. But if you weren't shot in the leg, then where were you shot? " Clara paused before continuing. "Then again, I'm not always accurate with my deductions. Oh, and Mr. Holmes? You are right, my grandmother has been missing for about a week now, and I am 15."

John just sits they with his mouth open in complete and utter shock, while Sherlock's mind is racing on how she had the knowledge to make deductions.

"It is psychosomatic. How did you know?" was all John could get out.

"There's a lot you can learn by merely observing something or someone." Clara said before turning to Sherlock. "I'm assuming that's what Mr. Holmes here does."

"Clever deduction, Ms. Helmes." Sherlock said smirking.

"You're not to bad yourself, Mr. Holmes." she said half smiling, before pausing. "Really, I am sorry for intruding. And thank you again for fixing my arm, John." Clara smiled and headed towards the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" John asked quickly.

"Home of course."

"Is it really that smart to be walking around at night when someone was just trying to kill you?"

"I'll be alright, Dr. Watson." Clara smiled reassuringly.

"Well could you at least give us your number?"

"Sorry, don't have a phone. Well I did, but mum took it away from me when I texted a serial killer. "

John's face scrunched up in confusion, as he tried to imagine that happening in his head. "And why did you text a serial killer?"

"I was trying to solve a case." she said shrugging.

John rolled his eyes, "Oh that's a good reason."

"I could walk you back." Sherlock said interrupting them.

"You want to walk me home?" Clara asked, now being her turn to be confused.

"I don't see why not." Sherlock shrugged.

"Alright." Clara said, while Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf.

The two left, leaving a still confused John behind.

" Hm, Clara Helmes, Helmes...nope, still sounds like Holmes. "


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading and following this series! This will be the shortest chapter so far, so I apologize about that. As always I apologize again for any misspellings and I also don't own Sherlock, just my OC. Hope you enjoy the second chapter! Please R&R! : )

After a brief argument over whether they should just walk or take a cab to where Clara lived, they finally agreed (or as much as Sherlock Holmes could agree to anything) to walk.

"Who were those men?" Sherlock asked again, as they walked through the backroads of London.

"You're gonna keep asking me until I tell you, aren't you?"Clara said in annoyance.

"Yes."

She rolled her eyes and sighed, "They work for this man who was involved with the murder of my parents."

"Your parents were murdered?" he asked, stopping to look at her.

" Yeah..." she said quietly.

They walked in silence for a little while, which gave Sherlock time to try and figure out the girl's situation.

"Did it work?" he finally said, breaking the silence.

"Did what work?" Clara asked, looking at him in confusion

"Texting the serial killer, did it work?" He repeated, only this time annoyed that she didn't understand the first time.

"Oh, yes it did. I even solved the case, but no one really wanted to listen to a little girl. "

" But you weren't a 'normal little girl' were you?" Sherlock said, stating the obvious.

Clara smiled, "I was far from normal. I've alway loved mysteries, murders, you name it. I don't know why though, ever since I was little I taught myself to deduce many different facts about a person or situation simply by observing. However, my deductions are not always perfectly accurate. Besides, I try not to do it that often, everyone thinks it's weird."

"What's wrong with being considered 'weird'?" Sherlock asked, knowing fully well what it's like to be considered being 'weird' and a 'freak'.

"What, is this some sort of therapy session?" she asked, wanting to change the subject.

Before Sherlock could say something rude, Clara stopped in front of an old two story house.

"Well, here we are. Home sweet home." she said sarcastically.

"Hm, quaint."

They both walked over to the door, and Sherlock noticed the door was locked.

"I assume you have a key?"

" Actually I don't, only my grandmother and neighbor have a key." Clara admitted.

"Why does your neighbor have a key and you don't?"

"Remember how I texted the murderer? Well, in the message I said to meet me here, didn't want him feeling uncomfortable or anything." she replied, not even embarrassed or ashamed of it.

"Then how do you plan to get in?" Sherlock asked, fully wondering whether she had a secret entrance or something.

She pointed upwards, "Window. Best way to get in places if you ask me."

Clara shrugged and walked over to the side of the house. It was an old house with vines climbing up the side of it. Sherlock figured the original color was white, but over time had become a greenish brown color. Clara stepped on a rusty trashcan, and started to attempt climbing up the side of it.

"You used the past tense "ironed" which means your grandmother doesn't do the laundry anymore. Why would she have stopped unless she was missing? She couldn't possibly be dead, because the way you described her, she seems to stay at home all the time, so if she were dead, wouldn't you of seen a body in the house? Then again she could have been kidnapped while you were gone to school, then murdered." Sherlock said, taking Clara by surprise from his sudden deduction.

She paused from climbing, turning to face him the best she could in that position.

" I don't go to school, I stay home as well."

" Then, how could she be missing if you were there the whole time?"

"Because he killed her. The same man that killed my parents, has now killed my grandmother. And I don't want you and John to get involved and then end up dead as well, alright?" she said, trying her best to sound as stern as possible.

She turned back around and started climbing again, which was surprisingly working out for her.

"You do know where to find us?" Sherlock asked after a couple minutes of watching her climb.

Clara huffed in frustration, "Actually, no. I didn't pay much attention to which street I was on, or the address. My apologies, I was running for my life at the time."

"221b Baker Street. Think you can remember?"

She only nodded, and finally reached the top. Sherlock turned and walked away, while Clara watched from the window.

"I'll remember." she said half smiling to herself.

John sat in his chair at 221B, sipping on tea while reading the reviews he had gotten on his blog. Sherlock walked in, having an unreadable expression as always.

"You think she'll be alright?" John asked, realizing Sherlock wouldn't tell him unless he said something about it.

"I suppose we'll be seeing a lot more of Clara Helmes around here." He said, simply ignoring John's question, and walking over to the window.

"Then you may want want to clean up around here. You know, all the books and body parts, may gross her out. Then again, with her being like you, she probably doesn't mind." John replied, expecting nothing less of Sherlock than to ignore his questions and comments.

Sherlock paused for a moment, as though he were thinking of something very complicated.

"Remind me to call Mycroft tomorrow."

John looked up from his computer in confusion, "I thought you disliked Mycroft?"

"I do." He said, finally giving some acknowledgment to his friend.

John just shrugged and went back to reading, before soon falling asleep. Once Sherlock saw he was asleep, he pulled out his phone (which he so rarely used) and made a call. It rang for a while before someone picked up on the other end.  
"Hello, dear brother." Sherlock said with a tone of sarcasm. "I need you to find everything you can on a Clara Helmes."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to update this. I could make up a million excuses, but I'm mainly just going to apologize. Also, I decided to do this chapter in Clara's P.O.V. If you want me to go back to third person, just let me know in the comments. Thanks for reading, and please R &R! : )**

I woke up to the sound of my alarm going off at seven am in the morning. I quickly turned it off, and rubbed my eyes. I could already tell I had horrible bed head, but before I could fix it, I heard someone downstairs.

"It's him." I huffed, automatically knowing who would show up at this time of morning.

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I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen dressed in a light blue button up shirt with a grey vest over it, tight black jeans, and my hair braided.

"What are you doing here, Mycroft?" I asked, as I passed the man who was dressed in his normal three piece suit.

"Oh, just checking on you." Mycroft said, smiling fakely.

"I appreciate your little visits to check up on me, but I honestly don't need them." I said as sarcastic and polite as I could get.

He simply rolled his eyes, "Anything new on your grandmother?"

"Afraid not, but I'm sure the police will find her sometime." I said walking over and opening the fridge.

"And I assume you've gotten rid of that journal you keep?" he said opening up a newspaper that was laying on the kitchen table.

I slammed the fridge closed, " I told you already, Mycroft. I'm not getting rid of my journal, it may help me solve the murder of my parents somday."

"It may, but it might get you killed in the process."

"Then so be it." I stated smugly.

I grabbed my messenger bag from one of the kitchen chairs, and made my way to the door.

"You obviously know where the door is, since you keep popping up at random times before simply swanning off." I said before getting one foot out the door myself.

"One last thing." He started, causing me to stop where I was. "Have you had any more encounters with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson?"

I suddenly froze, wondering how in the world he knew I had met them a while back.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. You must have the wrong person." I said fakely smiling.

"Oh I think you do, Clara. And if you have met them, never speak to them again."

I wondered why he was so concerned, but I just shrugged it off and walked out the door.

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I decided to get a few things at the grocery store, hoping Mycroft would be gone by the time I got home. After searching for the milk a while, I finally found the aisle, only to reveal Sherlock Holmes standing there as well. He was cornered by a reporter who was obviously irritating him. Our eyes met, and I could tell he wanted me to find a way to get him out of the situation. I felt myself smirk and almost immediantly got a look of annoyance back from him. It only took me a minute to think of a plan, before I started walking towards them. I grabbed a soda from one of the shelves I passed, shook it up and began to open it. Once I got only a couple feet away from the reporter, I made myself trip, spilling the drink all over her. She immediantly started freaking out over the stains that were beginning to form on her blouse.

"I'm so sorry!" I quickly said, trying my best not to laugh.

I reach into my bag to grab my wallet, but accidentally knock my journal out in the process. I simply ignore it, and hand a couple pounds to the reporter.

"This should take care of it."

"It better!" she said angrily, before storming off.

As soon as she got a couple feet away, I burst out laughing, even getting a small chuckle from Sherlock. He bent down to pick my journal up, and I was afraid he would see what was in it. I quickly grabbed it from him and stuck it back in the messenger bag.

"I was merely trying to help." He said, looking at me suspiciously.

I noticed how weird that must have seemed, "I know, um, sorry about that." I shook my head and smiled, "You so owe me.

"That was just paying me back for helping you three weeks ago."

"Has it really been three weeks?" I asked, not even realizing how long ago it was since they found me on their doorsteps.

"Yes, and it's being driving John mad."

"Well then, should I pay him a visit?"

"That might be nice, and you may also be able to help me figure out what this means." Sherlock said before pulling his phone out from his coat pocket and handing it to me.

On the screen were the words 'Chso2leimgalaiermmntaecgu, you'll never find out who I am. I live off the grid'.

I handed his phone back in confusion, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Not for sure, that's why you'll be helping me with this case." he said before promptly walking off.

"Wait a minute, where are you going?"

He stopped and turned back around to look at me in annoyance, "221B of course."

I thought about what Mycroft had told me, to not speak to them again. But here was the great Sherlock Holmes wanting me to help him solve a case.

"I'll help you."

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We took a cab back to Baker Street, and arrived there in only a matter of minutes. When we got inside, we were greeted by an older looking woman.

" Oh hello, Sherlock." she smiled before noticing me. "And who might this be?"

"I'm Clara Helmes." I said shaking her hand.

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you. If you two are looking for John, he's upstairs typing on that little blog of his."

Sherlock nodded, "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."

"Well if you'll excuse me dears, I best be off to the store." she said kindly.

"Good day, Mrs. Hudson." I said smiling, before Sherlock and I made our way upstairs.

Mrs. Hudson was right, John sat upstairs typing on his computer. As soon as he saw me, he set it aside, and walked over to me.

"Clara, you're back!" He said smiling.

I gave him a quick hug, "Of course I am. I said I would, didn't I?"

"Well, take a seat." He said still surprised at my sudden appearance.

I seated myself on the couch that I had layed on weeks ago, while John and Sherlock took their own seats.

"How's the arm doing?" John asked.

"Much better, thank you."

"Do I need to take a look at it."

I shook my head, " No really, it's fine."

"I trust your judgement."

Sherlock looked at John, almost like he was offended.

"You're going to trust the judgment of a child? You don't even trust me most of the time!"

"That's because Clara is more mature than you at times." he responded.

"But at other times, I exceed even the both of you." Sherlock stated sternly.

John rolled his eyes and looked at me, " And that's as modest as he gets."

"So, how have you boys been since our last encounter?" I asked, actually pretty curious at what they had gotten themselves into.

"Good I suppose. We solved a scandal if that's interesting."

"Sounds fun." I said before I heard Sherlock groan. "Or not."

"Sherlock was sort of beaten by a woman on that case."

"I was not." He muttered.

John huffed and took a sip from the cup of tea he had been drinking, "Anyway. How have you been, Clara?"

"Well, I found out that I may get murdered."

"What? Why would somebody kill you?" John asked after almost choking on his tea.

"It's quite logical, really. When I was younger my parents were murdered, and now my grandmother is presumably dead..." I started.

"She's still missing?" John interrupted. "Are you sure she's dead?"

" John, it's been almost a three weeks since I met you two, and she's not come back. Besides, I think I know who did it."

"And who might that be?" Sherlock finally said.

"His name is Jim Moriarty."

This time John actually did choke on his tea before going pale. Even Sherlock looked surprised by this.

"Who?" John forced out, even having to glance at Sherlock to make sure he heard right.

"Jim Moriarty" I repeated, surprised by their reaction. "Why do you know him?"

"You could say we've had a few 'run-ins' with him." Sherlock said.

"'Run-ins'?" John laughed. "Ha! Last time we had a "run-in" with Moriarty, I had explosives strapped to me and guns were pointed at the both of us!"

"Well he's been busy since the last time I saw him, or as Moriarty anyway."

"What do you mean by the last time you saw him?' Sherlock questioned further.

"Moriarty is pretending to be my neighbor. He's also the one that has one of the two keys to get inside my house." I said being completely unphazed by the whole thing.

John choked on his tea again, causing me to roll my eyes.

"It may be best if you avoid drinking your tea while we have this specific conversation."

He took my advice, and sat the cup aside. His phone went off, alerting him that he received a text.

"It's Lestrade." John said, reading the message.

Sherlock groaned, "What does he and the rest of those idiots want?"

"He says there was a murder downtown."

"Is it a seven?"

"A seven?" I asked, now being my turn to be confused.

"Sherlock has this thing where he won't take a case unless it's over a seven on his "chart"." John explained.

"I would just be glad to even have a case, seven or not." I said right as John got another text.

"The murderer left a note."

I looked over at Sherlock, "Sounds like a seven to me."

"Fine" He said, before getting up from his chair.

John also got up, and they both began to put their coats on.

"You said you like solving things, right?" Sherlock said to me as he put his scarf on.

"Right."

"Then maybe you could make yourself useful, with your ability to make deductions."

I smiled, and hopped up from the couch. I walked over to the two who were standing by the door.

"What you might see today could disturb you." Sherlock warned.

I smiled, "Sounds lovely."

"Just like you." John said to Sherlock, shaking his head.

And just like that, we were off.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm gonna continue doing the chapters in Clara's P.O.V., but if you'd like me to go back to third person, just let me know in the comments. Also, this chapter has a lot of scene changes, so I hope it's not confusing. Anywho, hope you guys like this! Please R &R! : ) P.S. Sorry this took a million years.**

The cab we had all three taken, pulled up to an apartment surrounded by police cars. As soon as we stepped out of the cab, I began to take in my surroundings. I could tell Sherlock was doing the same.

"Good to see you boys." A man said walking over to us, before looking at me with familiarity in his eyes. "Clara?"

I awkwardly smiled, as I actually knew who the man was, " Good to see you again, Graham."

"It's Greg." The man, Lestrade, said flatly.

"Oh yeah. I never could get it right, could I?"

John glanced at us in confusion, "Wait, you two know each other?"

"More or less." I admitted, knowing fully well Lestrade and I weren't on the best terms. Espicially after the last time we had seen each other.

"If you two are done with your petty reunion, I'd love to see this note and body." Sherlock interrupted.

Lestrade nodded and led us towards the house. As we walked I noticed two more familiar faces.

"Anderson." I nodded towards them. "Donovan."

Anderson simply ignored it, and Donovan, or Sally, just rolled her eyes. We had also never been on the greatest terms.

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The inside of the apartment was small, and the living area we were led into only had two couches, and a small coffee table. In the corner of the room lay the dead woman who had blonde hair, and was wearing a plain t-shirt with yoga pants. Sherlock and I bent down to examine the body further, while John kept his distance standing by Lestrade. I glanced at him, wondering if he wasn't to fond of seeing dead bodies.

"I'll leave this to the professionals." He said, probably picking up on my confusion.

I half smiled and nodded, causing Sherlock to roll his eyes.

"Alright, Clara. What do you see?" he said, turning to me.

I felt my arm begin to slightly twitch, but I ignored it.

"She looks to be 35. Divorced, yet she still admires him." I stated.

"Obviously, since she's still wearing the wedding ring."

"But, the ring is kept unclean. Meaning she doesn't care enough to work things out with him. I mean, why take the time and effort to keep the ring clean, when, who knows? She could meet someone better."

Sherlock looked at me and smirked, "Precisely."

I saw his eyes go back to my arm, which was still twitching.

"So, where's this code?" I said to Lestrade, hoping to get Sherlock's mind on something else.

Lestrade pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket, and unfolded it. We all three stood around him to see the note that read, 'Chso2leimgalaiermmtaecau, you'll never find out who I am. I live off the grid'.

I looked at Sherlock in surprise, "It's the message, the one you showed me earlier today."

"Indeed it is." He replied, still examining the paper.

"What's it suppose to mean?" John asked.

Lestrade shrugged, "No clue. That's why I called you guys."

"Well of course you don't have a clue." I quietly muttered to myself.

"'I live off the grid'." Sherlock repeated a couple of times.

"Is it some kind of code?" John said, looking at all of us.

"Let me see if I have anything." I opened my bag and pulled out the journal that had fallen out earlier.

"What's this?" Sherlock asked as he was doing his best to look over my shoulder and into my journal.

"Ever since my parents died, I kept a journal of every accounted murder that I came across. I'm hoping that it will help me solve their murder some day." I stated, flipping through the books pages.

" You keep a scrapbook with pictures of dead people in it? You realize what this says about you?" He said while still trying to read all the content I had written down.

I looked at him in annoyance, "It's not a scrapbook, Sherlock. Again, I'm collecting papers relevant to murders. It helps me remember the details, thank you."

I shut the journal close, and stuck it back in my bag.

"I've got nothing on it."

"Ha! A girl is doing your job now? How pathetic?" I heard a familiar voice scoff.

I turned to Anderson with a smirk on my face.

"Pathetic? What's pathetic is that you're so daft, you barely got accepted into Scotland Yard."

He looked at me in surprise and embarrassment, "How did you-"

"Know?" I interrupted. "Oh I know a lot of things about you. Like your and Donovan's affair."

I spotted Sally from across the room, who's face had become bright red. I could feel my arm twitching worse, but why not have some fun while I can?

"Oh I'm not done yet! And this girl, hacked into the British Government when I was 8, because I was bored. So, what's pathetic is you, Anderson!" I finally stopped before turning to John. "John, I need you to use your phone's camera, and take some pictures of the building, body, or anything that looks useful. "

"Um, okay." He replied, looking a little shocked from my outburst.

He walked off, passing a steaming mad Donovan that was heading towards me.

"You'd better not say anything about us, or so help me!" She threatened angrily.

"Or what?" I said crossing my arms.

With no good comeback she grabbed Anderson's arm, and dragged him out of the room. I looked back at Lestrade and Sherlock, who looked just as surprised as John had.

"For your information, I didn't know they were together. I just randomly guessed, but I apparently guessed right, judging by their reaction."

Sherlock continued to notice my arm, even after all that.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

I looked down and noticed how much worse the twitching had gotten, "Oh, this. It's nothing, really. Um, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go check on John."

I said before leaving the room myself. I immediantly pulled out a bottle full of a medication I have to take for certain reasons.

"What do you know about her?" I heard Sherlock ask Lestrade from the other room.

"Who, Clara? Sorry mate, don't know that much about her. I do know her parents were murdered when she was little, but you already know that."

"Yes, but, how did she know you?" Sherlock questioned further.

"Scotland Yard had to take her in for a while." Lestrade started. "See, one evening we got a strange call saying that we should investigate a house for anything weird. Our team went out there, only to reveal a man and a woman lying dead on the floor."

"Her parents."

"Yup, we checked everywhere for any sign of the murderer. I heard a noise coming from one of the closets, so I decided to look. And that's when I saw her, trapped in that little closet. She was only a kid, but I remember her being so pale, and her eyes wide with fear. She didn't even look human, and she kept saying one thing over and over again-"

I hurried back in the room before Lestrade could finish the sentence.

"I've still got nothing on this bloody code."

Thankfully, John walked in about the same time I did, "I think I have enough pictures, Clara."

"Thank you." I put on a smile.

Sally walked back into the room, glancing at me angrily when she passed me.

"There's been another murder across town." She told Lestrade.

"Another?" John said in confusion.

"Let me guess, the murder left a note." Sherlock asked, finally saying something.

Sally nodded.

"Then why are we still standing here then?" I said looking at all of them.

Everyone shared a nodding glance, except for Sally, who just rolled her eyes.

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The second house we arrived at was a lot more expensive looking than the apartment we had been at minutes ago. Same style of murder, only this time the note was spray painted on the wall above the body. The note read, 'Your time is wearing thin, Holmes!'.

"I assume this was meant for you, Mr. Holmes." I said, looking at Sherlock.

"Moriarty's work?" John suggested.

"Who?" Lestrade asked, clearly surprised by the name.

"No, this is too boring for, Moriarty." Sherlock said, completely ignoring Lestrade's question.

" I agree." I said, while also trying to shake off a headache that I had gotten on the way here.

Lestrade must've noticed, "Why don't you three get lunch, it's already noon."

"Sounds fine with me." John shrugged.

"I don't see why not." I agreed. "How about you Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock groaned, "If we must."

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"I have a few books on decoding messages at my house. If it's alright with you guys I'll go get them, then meet you back at Baker Street." I said after the three of us got outside.

"Are you sure that's smart?" John asked with concern in his voice.

"I was okay last time."

" Yeah, but we didn't see you for three weeks. You could have been dead for all we knew."

"I promise it won't be three weeks this time." I reassured him before a cab pulled up. "Besides, what could go wrong?"

I smiled and got in the cab.

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After looking through a couple of books at my house, I had finally found the right one on decoding messages. I pulled out a notebook, pen, and the paper with the message on it that I had 'borrowed' from Lestrade. After a couple of minutes the code started coming together until I realized what it said.

"'Clara Helmes, I am coming to get you'." I repeated the message out loud, as I started to comprehend the danger I was in.

Before I could get up from my desk I had been writing on, I felt something hard hit my head.

And everything went black.


	5. Chapter 5

I slowly opened my eyes, trying my best to see where I was. I tried to move, but I looked down to see I was tied to someone and was soaked in something. My arms were tied behind my back, and there was a horrible smell in the air. I did my best to try and look to see who I was tied to, only to reveal John unconscious, with blood dripping down the side of his face.

"John?" I said nudging him as best I could.

No response.

"John, wake up." concern filled my voice.

I turned back around, and saw that we were in some sort of old warehouse. My mind started racing from all the possibilties of why we could be here.

"Clara?" I heard groggily from behind me.

I sighed in relief and tried to look at him, "I thought you were dead."

"Nope, still alive."

"But not for long!" came a sing songy voice from another part of the room.

I froze in pure terror over who the voice belonged too, but John must've known who it was as well. We both started looking around the room until we heard a door open. John and I turned our attention towards the man that was walking closer to us.

It was James Moriarty.

"Hello Johnny boy!" he said grinning evilly, before noticing me. "Clara? Clara Holmes?"

"It's Helmes." I corrected him, trying my best not to look panicked.

"Are you sure? I'm pretty sure it's-"

I interrupted him, "I'm sure."

"What are we soaked in, Moriarty?" John asked, holding up a lot better than I probably was.

"Hmmm..." He pretended to look confused as he pulled a lighter from his pocket. "You're soaked in something wet, that smells, and I have a lighter. Now, what could that mean? "

"Lighter fluid." John muttered.

Moriarty's face lit up, "Ding! Ding! Ding! Give the man a prize!"

I looked down and noticed a large ring of the lighter fluid surrounding John and I.

"So that's why you're staying a couple feet away. Because of the big ring of lighter fluid, huh? That's your brilliant plan? Burning us?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It is brilliant, isn't it?"

I shrugged, "I could have done better."

He rolled his eyes, "Teenagers."

I mockingly rolled my eyes back, and imitated his voice, "Consulting criminals."

"See? The name just rolls off the tongue." He smirked. "Now, enough with our little game, Holmes."

I huffed,"I told you, it's "Helmes". Seriously, I really need to change my last name."

"Enough!" He yelled, causing me to slightly jump. "Daddy's had enough now!"

Moriarty lit the lighter, and brought it down slowly towards the ring surrounding us. I turned back around so I wouldn't have to die seeing the face of the man who murdered my parents. I closed my eyes as the front part of the circle lit up with fire, quickly spreading around us.

"Sherlock?" I heard John ask quietly, causing me to open my eyes.

I didn't even have to turn around to know Sherlock found us. I half smiled to myself, and I soon felt the rope that was bounding my hands fall off. Now that the three of us were reunited again, we quickly followed Sherlock out of the back part of the ring that hadn't caught fire yet. I was thankful Moriarty had been standing at the front of the ring, so he wouldn't see us escaping.

We had only gotten a couple feet out of the room before I heard Moriarty yell in anger at our escape. We kept running until we finally paused to catch or breaths in one of the hallways.

"It's about time you got here." I said looking at Sherlock.

"Just be glad I did."

"What's the plan?" John asked, still out of breath.

Sherlock ran his hand through his hair, "Well, saving you guys was the plan."

"So, you're telling us you have no plan?" I said, finally catching my breath.

"In a way, yes."

"Oh dear, that's not good. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. I have a little explosion hidden in here, and it's set to go off in five minutes. Toodles!" Moriarty's voice came from over some sort of speaker.

"He's starting to get annoying." John grimaced.

"Starting to?" I replied sarcastically.

" John, the exit is just down the hall, you and Clara go." Sherlock interrupted.

I looked at John, "I'll be there in a minute, I promise."

"Clara..." He said nervously.

"I'll be there, really. What could happen?"

"You need to stop saying that."

I nodded my head, "Deal."

John ran off towards the exit, leaving Sherlock and I behind.

"You're not going to follow him, are you?" Sherlock asked.

I smiled, "Nope, we need to find Moriarty."

"We might die trying to find him." he warned.

"Then it's a good day to die."

He nodded and we continued making our way down different halls. It wasn't until we came to a door that was locked down by some sort of security system, that we stopped. I walked over to a keyboard that was beside the door, and started typing different codes into it.

"You should also know I'm a professional hacker." I admitted, while I kept feeding different codes into the system.

"Where in the world did you learn that?" Sherlock asked, looking at me with a hint of confusion.

"You pick up a few things, at Scotland Yard. Even at the age of eight years old."

The system beeped, and the door slowly opened. Sherlock and I carefully made our way into the next room only to see the code, 'Chso2leImgalaiermmntaecgu' all over the walls.

"'Clara Helmes, I am coming to get you'." I muttered, as I looked around the small room.

"So, you figured out my little code." came from behind us.

We both turned around quickly to see a smiling Moriarty standing in the doorway.

Sherlock shrugged, "It wasn't that hard."

I followed his lead, "Very easy, I thought you might be more of a challenge than that."

"Oh, you want a challenge, here's one for you. There's a bomb still designated to go off, and I've blocked off all exits. You have to try to get out of here, before this place goes up in flames." Moriarty started to walk off, but turned back around to face us. "Oh, and, you have to do it in the dark. Toodles, again!"

He snapped his fingers as he walked off, and the electricity immediately switched off.

"Now what?" I asked Sherlock.

"To the roof."

"How are we going to find it? It's completely dark."

He pulled out his phone, and began typing down a message, "I'm telling John to get Scotland Yard down here, so they can clear the area. Also, I'm asking a small favor from my dear brother."

"You have a brother?"

He looked at me and frowned, "Sadly, yes."

He used his phone as a light, and nodded for us to look for some stairs. We finally reach them, and soon get to the very top of the building. We immediately began looking for a way out, and I noticed that it was already night time.

"How do we get down?" I said, looking over the edge of the roof.

"We jump." He simply stated after he received and read a text.

I looked at him in horror, "What?! We can't just jump from here!"

He took a look over the edge as well, "I'm sure we can."

He stepped onto the ledge, and held his hand out for me. I reluctantly grabbed his hand, and joined him.

"Well, this is new." I nervously chuckled.

"Here." He grabbed my hand with his gloved one. "Take my hand."

"So we're really gonna do this?"

"Only way out." He said, before a truck filled with some substance comes around the corner, about to pass us. "Do you trust me?"

I looked at him and shook my head, "Nope."

He nodded, "Good."

Before I knew it, we had both jumped. By now, everything around me went in slow motion. I kept a tight grip on Sherlock's hand, and I didn't dare close my eyes. Finally time went back to normal as we landed in the back of the truck that was about to pass us earlier. Instead of it being something hard, the truck was full of something that was soft and that smelled.

Manure.

I looked at Sherlock in disgust over what we were both covered in. I was also thankful we jumped when we did, for as soon as we hit the back of the truck, parts of the building exploded. At that point, I should have never wanted to have anything to do with Sherlock Holmes again. But instead, I looked at him and burst out laughing.

"We're not dead." I laughed, even causing him to crack a smile. "I bloody love you."

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The truck let us off at the front of the now burning building. Lestrade and John were surrounded by police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances. John looked almost in a state of panic, so I decided I'd run on ahead and let him know I was okay.

"John!" I said, and as soon as he saw me, he ran over and hugged me.

He only stopped when he pulled back to look at me with his nose scrunched up.

"What is that smell?"

I smiled and patted him on the back, "It's the smell of not dying."

"Well that was tedious." Sherlock huffed.

"Are you guys alright?" John asked, looking at the both of us.

"Yeah, we're fine." I reassured him before feeling my arm start to twitch again.

Sherlock looked at me after he noticed my arm, "Clara, are you sure you're alright?"

I smiled fakely, "Of course I am."

I reached down for my bag, before realizing it wasn't there. I silently cursed in my mind, and realized it must've still been inside.

"Did any of your men see my bag inside?" I quickly asked Lestrade, referring to the firemen.

He shook his head, "Can't say we did, Clara. Didn't even know to look for it."

A sickening feeling settled in my stomach, as I felt like such an idiot.

"What's wrong?" John noticed my panic.

"There was something I really needed in that bag."

"Like pills?" Sherlock asked.

I looked at him in surprise, "What do you mean?"

"You're arm twitches every couple of hours, you always walk off, and pull something from your purse. You also complain about frequent headaches, and you get this blank look in your eyes when it happens. I finally narrowed it down to Benign Rolandic Epilepsy. Don't worry though, it usually disappears by adolescence."

I should've known he would figure it out, "You're right."

"Clara? Why didn't you say anything about it?" John asked.

"Because everyone treats me differently when they know, alright?" I said in frustration. "My parents sure did."

"Well, we'll make sure no one knows. But, we will have to get you more pills for it." Sherlock stated.

I nodded, "Fine, but there is one thing I'm curious about. How did you know where to find us?"

"Easy. After you left in the cab, I took my own separately from John. I started thinking about the code, and realized what 'I live off the grid meant'." He started. "The type of form the message was written using a grid cipher. I figured out what the code meant, and I immediately had the cab go to your house. When I got there, you were gone, and a phone was placed on your desk. I remember you telling me that your mum took away your phone when you were younger. Also, someone of your intelligence, should remember a simple address as ours."

"Wait, why would your address have anything to do with this?" I interrupted.

"The phone had the message, 'Sherlock, I found out what the code says. You and John are in danger, so just stay at 312 Amsterdam Street' displayed on the screen. I knew that the building on 312 Amsterdam Street had been abandoned for years, a perfect place for Moriarty to hide you two."

"So whoever kidnapped me specifically planted the phone so you would know where to find us?"

Sherlock nodded, "Exactly."

"That's never going to get old." John said shaking his head. "Your deductions I mean."

"I know." he shrugged.

"Wait, then, who sent the truck full of...you know?" I asked, not even wanting to mention what was now coated over mine and Sherlock's hair.

"Ah yes, that was my dear brother. I thought he'd send us something better for a landing pad, but I suppose it's better than nothing."

I nodded myself, and Lestrade walked over to us from talking to a police officer.

"Clara, there's something I need to tell you." He said glancing down at his feet. "Your grandmother was found dead a little ways from here."

"I naturally assumed she wasn't coming back." I frowned, trying my best not to break down and cry. "I guess that means I'll have the whole house to myself now."

"No you won't" Sherlock interrupted. "You'll be staying with us."

"I will?" I asked, suddenly looking at him in confusion.

"Of course." John added smiling.

"Hmmm, a doctor, a sociopath, and a hacker." I shrugged. "Sounds goods to me, but will everyday be like this? You know, explosions, kidnappings, potential death."

"Pretty much." John admitted.

"Oh I could get used to that."

"Well then, should we go to Angelo's?" Sherlock suggested.

"Fine with me." John looked at me. "Clara?"

"No arguments from me." I smiled.

"Alright then."

I looked at them both, "I'm really glad I met you two."

"I suppose I am too." Sherlock said.

We started walking off from the crime scene, still covered in the manure that was provided by Sherlock's brother. John suddenly stopped walking and looked at us in confusion.

"Seriously, what is that smell?"

Sherlock and I shared a smiling glance.

 **Okay so this is not the end of the fanfic, there's still more chapters to come! Thank you all again for reading! : )**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: I am sooo sorry it's been a million years since I've updated this! I've basically made you all wait the same time as it takes a real episode of Sherlock to come out XD The fanfic will still be in Clara's P.O.V., and set sometime in season 2. This chapter is going to be very fanfictiony, so be prepared. Thank you again for reading, and please R &R! : )**

You wouldn't believe the weird looks you get while running through the streets of London dressed like you just came from the Victorian era. Sure, it's a little strange, but that's just how things are living with Sherlock Holmes.

I pushed several people out of the way as I tried to cross the street. I had almost made it until a black motorcycle stopped in front of me, blocking my way. I gasped and tried to get away, until the driver pulled his black helmet that covered his face off.

"John?" I asked in confusion.

"Need a lift?" He asked, tossing me a helmet.

"I thought you were on Sherlock's side." I said getting on the back of the motorcycle.

"I'm on no one's side. Just whoever needs help."

I secured my helmet and nodded, "Can't argue with that."

"What's up with the dress?" He questioned further, after putting his helmet back on.

"Disguise."

John raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

"You should see Sherlock's." I replied flatly.

John rolled his eyes, knowing fully well how far Sherlock takes stuff. He revved the engine, and we took off towards the back roads of London. After a couple minutes, we had to stop due to the road being blocked off by a car accident.

"Sherlock wouldn't have caused an accident just for the game, right?" I asked, fully wondering if he would.

"No. Staged one, yes." John said, before pointing towards the only open space there was. "Clara, do you see that spot over there? The one that's not blocked."

"Yeah." I nodded.

"Hold on." He warned before we quickly took off on the motor bike, dodging cars as we went.

We almost made it, until Sherlock (who was dressed in his own set of victorian clothing) suddenly ran out in front of us. John slammed on the brakes, and as best as I could in a dress, I jumped off and headed towards the woods.

After running for God knows how long, I finally stopped to catch my breath. It wasn't until I heard a twig snapping behind me that I rememebered to stay alert. And instead of running away from the sound like I probably should have, I decided to slowly walk over to the source of where it came from. As I walked closer I let out a small gasp of surprise when I noticed a a body doubled over in pain on the ground. I bent down to the body, but couldn't see the person's face because of the way they were positioned.

"Wait a minute..." I muttered as I noticed the person had a head full of dark brown curly hair.

Before I could do anything, the person grabbed my wrists. I jumped up quickly, pulling my hands out from the person's grasp, but then preceded to fall to the ground in panic.

"Tag, you're it." I heard Sherlock's voice say mockingly.

"You git." I said trying not to smile, and slamming my hand on the ground in frustration.

"I knew you would fall for the old, "Person is Crisis" deal." Sherlock shrugged as he helped me get up.

"Yeah, well, at least I have a heart. And I'm pretty sure what you did right there is called 'cheating'."

Sherlock simply ignored the statement like he usually does.

"Next week is cops and robbers?" He suggested seeming to sense my frustration of him cheating (which is quite shocking to see Sherlock taking other people's feelings into consideration).

"Loser has to get the groceries for a week?" I suggested raising an eyebrow and crossing my arms.

"Fine, you're on."

I smiled before jumping at the sound of thunder as it started to lightly rain.

"We best be heading back." Sherlock said, probably noticing how I reacted to a little thing like thunder.

I nodded and we began to walk, "You think John left the motorcycle behind?"

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"Look at you two! You're soaked to the bone!" Mrs. Hudson cried almost as soon as Sherlock and I stepped through the door to 221B.

I mean, she did have a point, we were pretty soaked from the motorcycle ride home.

"I know, Mrs. Hudson. That's why Clara and I are heading upstairs right now." Sherlock reassured, trying to calm her down.

"Alright, Dear. John is already up there typing on his little blog." she said, seeming to be somewhat calmed from Sherlock's words.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." I said smiling, and Sherlock and I headed upstairs.

"So who won?" John asked, not even looking up from his computer.

"Sherlock." I responded flatly as I plopped on the couch that I had been using as a bed ever since I started living with them.

"As it should be." Sherlock straightened the old fashioned looking coat of his.

I shot him a look of annoyance, which John seemed to notice.

"So, what's with the costumes?" John asked, setting his computer aside.

"Sherlock thought it would be more interesting with disguises." I shrugged.

"Yes, but what makes the Victorian era clothing so special?"

"It was the first thing I could get." I said, glancing at Sherlock who seemed to not be paying much attention to the conversation (like usual).

"Oh yes, I forgot we had so many stores that sell Victorian clothing." John replied sarcastically.

"No, but the museum does."

His eyes widened, "You took clothes from the museum?"

"Borrowed, John. Borrowed." I said reassuringly.

"And where did you get yours?" He looked at Sherlock, which seemed to snap him out of his thoughts. "No, wait. Let me guess, the museum too?"

Sherlock scoffed, "Of course not, don't be daft. I got mine from a theatre group."

John stared at us for a solid minute before shaking his head, "You know what, I'm going to bed."

He got up from his chair and started heading towards the door before turning around and looking at Sherlock and I.

"Just please remember to return the costumes in the morning."

"'Disguises', John. We're not four." Sherlock corrected him.

"I wouldn't say that." John mumbled as he headed upstairs to his room.

Almost as soon as John left, Sherlock got up from his chair as well.

"Wait, where are you going?" I asked him quickly.

"Bed." He replied flatly.

"You? Going to bed?"

"Didn't you say yourself that I needed more sleep?" He answered with a raised eyebrow.

"I guess." I shrugged, and without another word he promptly made his way to his room.

I brought my knees up to my chest as I jumped again from another blast of thunder. I then decided that it'd be smarter if I just tried to go to bed and block out the noise. But even after slipping into a comfier red long sleeve shirt and black shorts, I still couldn't sleep. So for the next two hours I kept getting up and going to the bathroom to try and splash water on my face to distract me. After the millionth time coming back from the bathroom, I walked in on Sherlock desperately trying to find something.

"Oh, hey. I thought you were asleep." I asked him in confusion.

He slightly jumped in what looked like surprise and turned around, "I was working on a case, and needed John's computer."

I looked completely unconvinced.

"Fine. I was working on a case, but I kept hearing you go to the bathroom. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

I fakely smiled, "Oh yeah, I'm fine."

You're scared, aren't you?" He said, cocking his head as though I was like a case he would solve.

"No." I responded defensively before pausing. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, there is a thunderstorm raging outside. I've noticed that when you sleep, and there are loud noises nearby, you have nightmares."

"What?" was all I could say.

"I would guess they're about your parent's death." He said, shrugging it off like it was nothing.

"I didn't mean what my nightmares were about. I just..."

"Couldn't go to sleep because you were scared." He said, quickly interrupting me.

I walked over to him with my arms crossed in annoyance, "Could you stop doing that?"

He shook his head, "Not until you admit you are scared."

"So what if I'm scared?" I rolled my eyes.

"I knew it!"

I huffed in both embarrassment and frustration, and stormed over to the couch, laying down to where I faced the wall. This was one of the many cons of living and knowing Sherlock Holmes. He very rarely considers whether or not he embarrasses or offends people. I layed there until I heard him walk over to the window, and pick up his violin. To my surprise he began to rather loudly play the violin which is something I would usually be annoyed at, but I didn't say anything, for it blocked out the sound of thunder. I half smiled to myself, and before I knew it, I fell asleep.

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Thankfully the storm subsided by morning, and I woke up to the sound of the shower going. Since John was supposed to be at work, I assumed it to be Sherlock, so I decided to get up myself. I changed into a blue and green plaid dress, with black tights under it, and I (very messily) braided my hair.

After searching for a little bit I found John's computer and plopped on the couch/my 'bed', turning it on in the process. I was a bit taken back when I saw an article pulled up on the screen which Sherlock must've been looking at last night. And it wasn't any normal article, because it was an article about the murder of my parents.

"That must've been why he was trying to be nice last night." I muttered, feeling a little angry that he only did what he did out of pity for me.

Before I could read what the article had to say, I heard a pair of foot steps coming up the stairs. I quickly closed the tab, and looked up to see my friend, Ace, standing in the doorway.

"Knock, knock." She said, dressed in a different choice of clothing than usual.

"Hey, Ace." I replied, trying not to sound like anything was bothering me.

She looked at me in confusion and sat down next to me, "What are you looking at?"

I quickly glanced at the tab to see what I had exited too and saw it was Sherlock's website.

"Oh, you know. The, uh, Science of Deduction."

She seemed to shrug it off, "I guess that's interesting enough."

I nervously laughed before noticing something different about her, "So who's the lucky guy?"

"What?" She asked, now back to being confused.

"You're obviously going on a date later today. The ends of your hair are wet, I would assume from a shower. Also, you're wearing clothes that make you look older, than you really are. The perfume your wearing isn't that strong, noting this boy isn't that important. You're probably just trying to find anyone who will go to the school's upcoming dance with you."

She blinked a couple times before shaking her head and rolling her eyes at me, "Do you have to do that?"

I smirked, "Yes, yes I do."

"Well, whatever." She replied, before looking around the room. "So, what's it like living here?"

"Well, it's defiantly not boring." I said, setting the computer aside.

"Good, I didn't think your walls could handle much more of you being bored." She laughed, and I joined in. "So, have you thought anymore about your birthday?"

"Not really, I haven't had much time too."

"Or you just don't want to think about it." She crossed her arms, and gave me a look.

"Or, I've been chasing criminals for the past week, and actually haven't had time." I retorted.

"Maybe, but either way I'm getting you in a dress."

I smiled, "Birthday or not, I refuse to put on a dress."

We both laughed, because Ace knew my hatred for anything girly. We must've been laughing so hard though, because we didn't hear Sherlock come into the room.

"Hello, Macey." He said to her, wearing only a towel.

Ace quickly looked at her feet in embarrassment, and I remembered how weird this probably was, even though John and I are used to it by now.

"Yeah, hey. Look, could you put something more appropriate on?" Ace replied, avoiding any sort of eye contact.

Sherlock looked down at himself in confusion, probably wondering how what he was wearing wasn't 'appropriate'.

"Ace, he went to Buckingham Palace in a sheet."

She jerked her head up and looked at Sherlock in shock, "You what?"

He shrugged, "It wasn't that bad."

I gave him a look, "Yes, yes it was."

"Sherlock, please." Ace interrupted sounding more annoyed by the minute.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and walked off. As soon as he left, I looked at Ace with my own look of annoyance.

"And that pretty much sums up what living with Sherlock Bloody Holmes is like."

Ace went to respond, but was interrupted by Sherlock running back into the room, throwing his phone at me.

"Clara, text John. Tell him Lestrade has us a case."

"A 7?" I asked quizzically.

"Better." He said, and I almost thought I saw a smile on his face. "It's like Christmas!"

He bounded down the stairs, not even realizing he was still only wearing a towel. I quickly jumped off the couch and ran to the doorway to tell him.

"Sherlock, wait! You're only wearing a-"

A sudden shriek from Mrs. Hudson told me I hadn't gotten his attention in time. I just shook my head and began to laugh, because moments like this were defiantly a plus of living at 221B.

 **So there you go! Sorry there were so many scene changes, hopefully it didn't confuse you. Also, I promise I will be updating regularly from now on! And as always, I hoped you enjoyed! : )**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Oh my Lord, I cannot stress how sorry I am for not posting anything in like, a millionty years. (Literally it's almost been a year) The two main reasons being my computer deleted a lot of the chapters I had for ALL of the fanfics I have on this site, and I'm also a professional procrastinator so yeah that's why too. But I'm not gonna keep giving excuses, and instead I'm going to get back into writing! So, if you have stuck with this story for this long, I appluad you and have a free virtual high five from me. Also a reminder that this is still set in season 2, but I'll get to season 3 and 4 eventually. The first part of this story is in third person, and then it goes back to Clara's POV. Anywho's, thank you again for reading, and I hope you enjoy!**

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~Flashback~

"Have you found her yet?" Lestrade asked, running up to Anderson and Donovan.

"No, Sir." Donovan responded, out of breath from having to run room to room at Scotland Yard.

"How does an eight year old child hack into the British Government?" Anderson halfway yelled, also out of breath.

"I don't know! How did you not notice she was doing that?" Lestrade yelled back as his phone suddenly vibrated.

Anderson threw his hands in the air, "What eight year old child does that? I though she was playing with dolls or something!"

"Anderson, please." Donovan looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Do you think she would play with dolls?"

"We have a slight problem." Lestrade quickly interrupted, looking down at his phone. "Sherlock is here."

Anderson groaned and Sally rolled her eyes.

"Not that freak."

"Look, we got to find Clara before he does." Lestrade said in a panicky tone.

"What's so wrong if he knows about her?" Anderson crossed his arms, waiting for a good answer.

Sally looked at him as though he was stupid, "He'd probably use her as bait for one if his cases."

Before Anderson could either agree or argue, an ear piercing alarm began to go off throughout the whole building, making the three cover their ears. Lestrade nodded for them to go on, which is exactly what they did. Little did they know the girl they were looking for was hiding right around the corner, trying not to giggle over how funny it was to watch the three try to find her. As she turned to keep playing her game of hide and seek, she didn't notice someone swifty walking past her, causing the two to smack right into each other.

"Watch where you're going, child." A deep voiced boom, causing her to let out a small scream.

A man with dark curly hair looked at her in confusion, wondering why this little girl was acting as though she had done something wrong.

"Did you do this?" He asked, ater a moment of stunned silence.

Clara slowly nodded, waiting for the yells of dissaproval to fill her ears. But instead, the man simply shrugged and actually looked quite impressed at the chaos around them.

"Huh, nice job."

That was all he said, before walking off in the other direction. Clara waited for a moment before letting out a sigh of relief, and continuing her little game she started with Scotland Yard.

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After scolding Sherlock for halfway traumatizing Mrs. Hudson and Ace, we all took a cab to Scotland Yard to hear about the case that had Sherlock ecstatic. When we pulled up, Donovan and Anderson were waiting at the door for us, causing both Sherlock and I to sigh in frustration.

"Invite the whole neighborhood, why don't you?" Donovan sarcastically smiled at Sherlock and John when she saw me get out of the cab.

"Oh Donovan, how silly of you." I rolled my eyes, adding my own sarcastic remark. "The whole neighborhood isn't coming till noon."

Donovan scowled at me as I walked past her with as much sass as I could muster.

"So what is this case that has Sherlock thinking it's Christmas?" John asked as Lestrade joined our 'merry' little group.

"A couple of kids at Chiltren Hills Academy have come down with something." He responded, causing Sherlock to let out his normal groan of dissaproval.

"I thought this was supposed to be an interesting case!" He groaned, sounding like a child that was just told he couldn't have another biscuit.

"I haven't told you what their symptoms are." Lestrade quickly added, probaly afraid he'd lose Sherlock's attention. "The students are having hallucinations of things they fear. Their systems are clear of any drugs or poison. So, we don't know what's wrong with them."

"It has to be a drug, there's nothing else that could cause that." I crossed my arms, feeling like I'd basically wrapped up the case myself.

"Maybe even lack of sleep?" John suggested.

Lestrade shook his head, "I don't think lack of sleep would cause such vivid hallucinations."

"If not a drug, maybe a chemical? Maybe something in the water?" I added, since no one seemed to pay attention to my last statement.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Don't be stupid, that's too obvious. Besides, the medical team would have picked that up."

"Not unless it's an uncommon chemical or drug."

"Whoever did this isn't that dumb." He huffed, looking at me as though I were Anderson. "I would have thought someone of your intelligiance would have realized that already."

"Then what do you suggest it is, genius?" I shot back, feeling my face getting hotter.

"They obviously poisoned themselves." He shrugged, as though it were nothing.

"Sherlock, you just said the computers would have picked that up."

"Unless the poisoner erased any trace of it."

I couldn't keep myself composed any longer.

"That's basically the exact same thing that I just said!" I yelled, staring him down at this point.

Lestrade quickly stepped between us realizing the conversation probably wasn't headed in a good direction.

"Look, you two can work this out later. There'll be a cab waiting outside for you guys in a minute, it'll take you to the school."

"Well then let's go." I said, my eyes still locked with Sherlock's.

"Clara, it may be smarter if you don't go. We don't know what's causing this sickness, and I don't want to see you coming down with anything." John looked at me in concern.

I shook my head in disbelief over what he had suggested.

"You honestly don't think I'm going to stay behind?"

"Clara, listen to John." Sherlock agreed, probably just to tick me off even more.

I clenched my fist in anger, but there was nothing else I could say or do. Of course Sherlock was going to side with his boyfriend.

"Fine." was all I could say before I began to walk myself out of Scotland Yard.

"She's just as arrogant as you are." I heard Lestrade chuckle as I made my way towards the door.

I suppose he was comparing me to Sherlock, which was the last thing I wanted anyone to do. Still, I didn't know what else to do besides go back to 221B and wait for them to get back.

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It had been four hours, and Sherlock and John were still not back from Chiltren Hills. Which probably meant it was one of the best cases that we've had, and I'm missing it. The only good thing to come out if this, is the fact that I've gotten to try my hand at the violin for the past four hours. I'll admit it's quite calming once you get -

"Clara?" I heard from behind me.

I quickly turned around to see John standing there with a surprised look on his face. I did my best to hide the violin behind my back, even though you could plainly see that I had it.

"Please don't tell Sherlock." I blurted out.

"I didn't know you could play." John smiled reassuringly.

"Please?" I said, this time more desperate.

"I won't, don't worry."

I sighed in relief, "Thanks, and yes, I play."

"Where in the world did you learn?" He asked with genuine curiosity.

"I taught myself by watching Sherlock play. I studied his hand movements, and eventually learned which string made what sound."

"You got all that from watching him play?"

"It was quite simple really." I shrugged.

"I suppose there are worse habits a flatmate can have than playing the violin." He chuckled.

"Where is Sherlock anway?"

"After we left the academy, Sherlock was stopped by his brother."

I nodded, "Oh yeah, I remember Sherlock mentioning him."

"Well, they started arguing, but I was able to escape." John huffed.

I half smiled in amusement before I heard the door downstairs slam shut, and two people began to argue.

"It's him." John quickly warned after listening for a moment.

I hurried and put Sherlock's violin back in it's rightful place, before grabbing a book and plopping on the couch in a hurry. John grabbed his laptop, and sat in his usual place as well.

"If you don't stop paying me 'visits', I may just have to do something mean." Sherlock's voice filled the small apartment as he stormed in the room.

"Like you could ever be mean, Brother Dear." A voice, so familiar, retorted.

I looked up from my book to see Mycroft standing there with a smirk plastered on his face. I immediantly went back to looking at my book, hoping he wouldn't notice me.

"Clara?" I heard for the second time today.

I looked up again to see Mycroft staring at me with a mix of surprise and dissaproval.

"Oh hey." I smiled nervously.

"What are you doing here?" He said angrily walking towards me.

"Oh yes. Mycoft, this is Clara Helmes." Sherlock interrupted, sounding slightly confused.

"I know." Mycroft looked at him as though he had done something wrong.

"Wait, how do you know each other?" John glanced at Mycroft and I.

"You could say we've met before." I answered.

"So, that's why I haven't seen you around lately. You've been here." Mycroft said, looking around the flat as though it was the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen.

"How do you guys know Mycroft?" I asked Sherlock and John, trying my best to ignore his statement.

"He's Sherlock's brother." John stated as though it was such a common fact.

I looked at both Sherlock and Mycroft in complete and utter confusion.

"What?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "That's exactly what I said when my parents confirmed we were actually brothers.

"So you're the one that sent the truck full of manure." I accused, referring to a couple weeks ago with the whole exploding building incident.

"So that's what that smell was." John said, as though he had just cracked The Da Vinci Code.

"Yes, John. Try to keep up." Sherlock rolled his eyes before glaring at Mycroft. "Would you just go?"

"Fine." He grumbled. "Just remember what I said, Clara."

I felt my stomach drop as he stormed out of our flat.

"What did he say to you?" Sherlock asked quizzically.

I shook my head,"It's nothing. Look, have you solved the case yet?"

Sherlock sat down in his chair, still seeming suspicious, "It's a working progress."

"I still think it's a drug. I mean, you could look at the students medical files and see if they've been to the doctor's lately for any odd symptoms. Then you could decide on which drug or poison it is, depending on their symptoms." I suggested again.

"She's got a good point, Sherlock." John sided with me.

"No, she doesn't." Sherlock angrily glared at John.

I rolled my eyes at how much of an arse he could be sometimes.

"How bout I go and get us some chips?" John suggested, probably sensing my frustration.

"Sure, that sounds lovely." I smiled, trying to show my appreciation to how kind he was being, unlike Sherlock.

John smiled back and made his way towards the door. He didn't bother waiting for Sherlock's opinion on the matter, since he had already slipped into this thing that he calls 'his mind palace'.

"Guess I'll go make tea." I muttered under my breath after John had left.

"What about me?" Sherlock asked as I walked past him, eyes still closed from concentrating .

"I'm leaving you to die of thirst." I responded flatly from the kitchen.

"You know I wouldn't actually die of..."

"Yes, I know, Sherlock." I huffed as I walked back in the room, and sat back down on the couch."So what are you cooking up in that little mind palace of yours?"

"You." He stated as though it were nothing.

"Me?" I asked, actually curious. "What am I doing in there?"

"You're trying to make me feel guilty."

"Guilty of what? Not admitting I was right about it being a drug." I smirked and crossed my arms. "Your brain came up with me because I was right, and you needed to be humbled. Isn't that right, Holmes?"

Sherlock opened his eyes suddenly, "That night. The night I met you in that alley, why did you shoot those men?"

"Why didn't you break my arm?" I asked back, purposely trying to avoid his question.

"It wasn't necessary, I knew you'd give me the ring back." He shook his head, trying not to get distracted.

"Didn't know I was that predictable." I said, pretending to be offended.

"Why did you shoot those men?" He asked again, but this time he seemed more desperate.

"Why wouldn't I? Those blokes were getting on my nerves."

"That's not why you did it, and you know that. You had pity on me."

I was slightly enjoying knowing more than him.

"No, not pity." I leaned in closer to him from where I was sitting. "That's just what people do."

"Clara Helmes, the girl who is seemingly impossible." He smirked, cocking his head to the side.

"I'm flattered." I replied sarcastically. "Besides, I'm not impossible. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

A huge grin set over my face, "Unless I've stumped you."

"Stumped me? You've not stumped me." He said defensively.

I stood up, "Then why would I shoot two men for a person I didn't even know?"

He stood up as well and walked towards me, "Who are you?"

"Who do you think I am?" I smirked, before grabbing my coat, and heading towards the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" He asked quickly.

"I think I'll go help John get those chips." I shrugged, before walking out the door.

As soon as I had left 221B, I had to do everyting I could not to burst out laughing. True there was a lot of things Sherlock didn't know about me, but it was fun torturing him with it. Espicially when he's been an arse to me the entire day. To be honest though, I had no idea where John had gone to get chips, but I suppose I'd find him soon enough. I got so caught up with my amusement with Sherlock though, that I hadn't even noticed when I was in the middle of downtown London. I looked around to get my surrondings, and to my horror, there was man wearing a baseball cap with the words 'London' on it who was so caught up with listening to the music that was being played through his earbuds, that he wasn't able to notice he was walking straight into on coming traffic.

I sprinted as hard as I could, pushing any person that was in my way. I grunted as I grabbed him and we both toppled over to the other side of the sidewalk. I picked myself up quickly, still breathing heavily from running so hard.

"Oi, you need to watch where you're..."

I felt my face go pale as any good feelings of saving this man went away. The man grabbed me by the wrist, and we locked eyes.

"Hello, Ms. Clara." He grinned.

I had just saved James Moriarty.


End file.
